


Weekend in Harrenhal

by CaptainTarthister



Series: The Lannisters Are Coming [36]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anniversary, But This is Not Scary, F/M, Ghosts, Haunting, Maybe Creepy, Porn With Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 10:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8441359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: Jaime takes Brienne to Harrenhal for their wedding anniversary and encounter ghostly sightings of their ancestors, the Kingslayer and the Maid of Tarth.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> The character of Locke is a combination of Amory Lorch and Vargo Hoat from ASOIAF, hence the name Vargo 'Vic' Locke. He's a good guy here.  
> The major character death tag refers to the Kingslayer and his Maid :-)  
> ____  
> Parts of this installment refer to events in 35 Kisses.

“For the love of the Seven, my wife, my light,” Jaime Lannister complained dramatically, sitting behind Brienne so he could put his arms around her waist. He kissed her on the shoulder and continued, “I thought you’re done working.”

“Just let me finish this email. `You’re welcome and thank you for inviting me.’” Chewing her full bottom lip, Brienne glanced at him and asked, “That sounds okay, right? Not too profuse, just cool enough but still polite and friendly?”

He read what she had written. “Who are you writing to?”

“I’m writing to Jon and his chair so I can’t be too casual,” she replied, turning back to the screen. Jaime rested his chin on her shoulder. Brienne was on a three-day conference in Winterfell University, where she was keynote speaker for the event. Jon Snow was a professor there.The two friends had met up and Brienne had stayed an extra day so Jon and his wife Sansa could show her around. At first light, Brienne flew to Harrenhal where she met Jaime.

She blushed as her pulled down the towel she was wearing so he could cup and play with her tits. Jaime chuckled at her obvious quickened breathing and she pressed SEND. Done, she put her laptop away said breathlessly, “I need to get dressed, husband.”  
“Dressed?” Jaime drawled as he licked her from behind the ear down the sensitive line at the side of her neck. He lightly pinched her nipples and she let out a rough gasp. “You look better without clothes.”

She laughed as he suddenly drew her down the bed, then pulled her so she was lying fully on it. Smiling emerald eyes bored down at her before he took her lips in a soft kiss that slowly heated her up from head to toe. Her hands climbed to his shoulders, his nape, pulling him closer as he removed the damp towel from her. The rough linen of his shirt teased her nipples and highly-sensitized skin, the cool buckle of his belt a soothing press on her stomach. It didn’t escape their notice that once again she was completely naked and he dressed. 

Brienne stared with bleary eyes at the intricate wooden carvings on the ceiling as Jaime’s lips lowered to the wildly beating pulse at her throat, the necklace of freckles spanning from shoulder to shoulder then her tits. Her cheeks warmed and she watched him nuzzle the soft mounds. She was once as flat as a board but her pregnancies changed all that. Her tits had grown to some fullness though still small. There were days when she needed a bra, especially when her period was near, but most of the time, she skipped those uncomfortable harnesses. It was a choice that Jaime liked very much. She was blushing and trying hard not to laugh from the growling, animal sounds he was making as he eagerly sucked and kissed her tits, gently biting a nipple. 

Her breath hitched. Her spine stiffened at the spike of pleasure introduced when his tongue glided leisurely around her nipple. “Reservations,” she gasped, her hips rolling and rocking against the long hardness straining from under his pants. “We— _oh_ —we’ll miss them.”

Jaime suddenly rose on his knees and she had to bite back her disappointment. Then he reached for the phone by the bed. “This is Mr. Lannister, from the Tower Suite. My wife and I will be a few minutes late. I hope we won’t lose our reservation? Good. Thank you.” He put the phone down and grinned at her. “Well, that’s settled. Where were we?”

Brienne reached for his face, her blue eyes soft and dazzled before she pulled him down for another kiss. He was heavy and warm on her, and his cock was hard and eager as it pressed against her cunt. They rolled around the bed, each having a turn on top before being toppled back in the mattress. Mouths and tongues met and clashed, tasted, hands sought and lingered. Blue was lost in green, green drowned in blue. When Jaime started to enter her, Brienne was so aroused and desperate that tears sprang in her eyes at the intensity of their joining. She sobbed his name. Her feet flat on the bed, her hips lurched up sharply to meet his thrusts. Her breath hung between sniffles and gasps as he grunted above her, each straining and fighting for him to press and settle deep in her. 

“Jaime,” she moaned, closing her eyes.

“Always,” he growled,” a fight,” _thrust,_ “to get inside.”

Her eyes flew open as she felt the stretch and strain of her flesh straining to accommodate his cock. She was shaking from the effort, struggling against the bliss that was fast approaching to seize her. Jaime saw the desperation on her face so he kissed her, keeping the pleasure at bay. He was trembling too, wanting to make it last as well. 

“You shouldn’t be so tight anymore, wife.”

She had to laugh. “I try.”

Jaime gasped as he fucked her, head falling back briefly to reveal the elegant column of his throat, the hard bob of his Adam’s apple. “Or wet.”

“Can’t,” she whimpered. “Nothing I can—oh! Gods, so, so good. Jaime. Jaime.”

Her cries of his name was his undoing. He slammed fully inside her on his next thrust, drawing a sharp grunt from her. As they rocked and pushed against each other, their eyes brilliant at the prospect of making the other come first, he grabbed her wrists and pulled them above her head. He smirked as she realized his imminent victory with her arms trapped under his, and was quick to pinch one of her nipples. That was her undoing. Her cries in his ear would have him probably hard of hearing for days but the sight of her delirious and helpless from pleasure was so worth it. Only then did he give in to the demands of his body and surrendered to heavenly release.

They were a limp tangle of limbs and sweaty skin. Still out of breath, Brienne murmured, “Maybe we should have room service.”  
Jaime, his head resting between her breasts, grinned. “I guess you want to fuck the entire night, hmm, wife?”

“No, you idiot.” Her slap on the side of his head felt like a caress. “Once again, you’ve forgotten to feed me first before fucking me senseless. I thought the room service would be a nice compromise.”

It was a long-running joke between them that Jaime often forgot to let her eat first before keeping her in bed for an all-night fuckfest. They didn’t have a lot of those these days. Their children were grown and between hands-on parenting and demanding, full-time jobs, they were lucky to be still able to cuddle. Fortunately, the children took turns spending the weekend at Casterly Rock. This meant they had fewer kids to look after from Friday to Saturday but Sunday, they insisted that everyone be under their roof. They had a big breakfast at home and spent the rest of the day together. 

Except for this weekend. This was their fifth wedding anniversary, a milestone. Their usual plan was dinner and to leave the children with the nanny for a few hours. Their fifth year together as a married couple couldn’t just be dinner and being out for a few hours, as Jaime pointed out. Their schedules were often packed, children and work elbowing at each other for priority. Brienne’s conference in Winterfell gave Jaime the idea of meeting up halfway and spending the weekend in Harrenhal. Their sons Drew, Ty, Michael and Jason were currently at Casterly Rock.

Harrenhal was not romance central. It was a small town whose economy heavily depended on historical and ghost tours, shops that sold kitschy but heavily-collected souvenirs. Though it catered to a specific audience, tours were full year-round, especially when Stranger’s Day approached. It was lucky that their anniversary fell during spring; while advance booking was still required, the crowds were not as big. 

“Brienne, if we’re just going to fuck the weekend away, we should have just stayed at home and locked the door,” Jaime pointed out, pushing himself up on his elbows. Brienne palmed his cheek and he leaned against it, turning his head briefly to kiss it before looking back at her. “Besides, I haven’t seen you in a dress in a while.”

“Jaime Lannister,” she teased, pinching his ear and making him laugh. “Are you telling me I’ve been looking like a schlump?”

“A schlump? Never.” He dropped kisses on her breasts, making her entire body clench. “But I miss your legs.”

She raised one of her long pins. “You can see them now.”

“Much as I would prefer to be the only one to know how long they are, I’m not a greedy man. The world should know about your legs.”

Brienne giggled as he kissed the entire length, all the way to her toes. He sat up as he did, until he reached the foot of the bed. Getting to his feet, he gently tugged at her ankle. She sat up, pink in the cheeks but her blue eyes gleaming. As Jaime pulled up his pants, she ran her hands up and down his abs.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to just stay in the room, husband?” She whispered, playing with the waistband suggestively. Or as suggestively as she could manage because she was blushing heavily.

“Is this really what you want?” Jaime asked, realizing she must have other reasons for wanting to stay in. Touched by how considerate he was, she shook her head. 

“No. But we haven’t had any of those fuckfests for a long time.” 

Jaime was instantly hard at the word ‘fuckfest’ coming from her mouth. He smiled at her, though it was strained. “And we will. But I would like to take my wife out to dinner, show her off because she’s fucking brilliant and just amazing all the time. And then I’ll fuck her like lion I am,” he added, thumbing her swollen lips significantly. Brienne rewarded him with a scarlet blush.  
So she got dressed. Brienne had packed a powder-blue sheath dress. It had a round neckline and was sleeveless, the skirt ending just above the knee. It had a low back, which was Jaime’s favourite style on her. She slipped on sling-back silver sandals.  
They took the elevator down to the mezzanine level, where the restaurant was. As they were led to their table, Brienne’s ears picked up the familiar strains from a piano being played nearby. Jaime was grinning widely as recognition brightened her face. 

“The Bear and the Maiden Fair?” She asked as she sat down.

Jaime thanked the host and sat down. “It’s our song, wife.”

Her husband really was the sweetest. It wasn’t everyone’s idea of a romantic song—it wasn’t romantic at all. But this was how they met—when, drunk, she climbed up on the tables of Ye Olde Gods and sang it. 

“What other surprises have you got up your sleeve, I wonder,” Brienne mused as they were handed their menus.

“Just as a Lannister always pays debts, a Lannister never reveals his tricks.”

 

Brienne grunted in protest when a too-heavy hand landed on her bottom several times. “Get your sexy lazy ass off the bed, Tarth,” came Jaime’s too-cheerful voice. “We can’t miss the tour.”

Groaning, Brienne opened her eyes, only to be blasted by the sun when Jaime yanked open the drapes. “Seven Hells, husband!” She growled, turning away and curling into a ball. “What are you doing?”

She was still frowning when Jaime flopped down beside her. Throwing an arm around her naked waist, he kissed her on the nape then her shoulder. “I’ve arranged for us to have a private tour of Harrenhal.”

Her eyes still shut, Brienne turned in his arms and buried her face against his neck. She sniffed appreciatively at the scent of hotel soap and his aftershave. “I thought you said you’ve arranged for us to spend the morning in bed.”

His throat was a gentle tremor against her forehead as he chuckled. “Is this my wife refusing a historical tour of the castle?”  
“Wife? You were calling me Tarth just now.” Brienne wrapped an arm around him and threw her leg around his hips. “You’re joking, right?” Her eyes fluttered open. Gods. Up close her husband’s god-like looks was still overwhelming. That elegant nose, that jawline that could cut glass. She pressed kisses around it. “You don’t really mean for us to leave this very comfortable bed?”

“It’s just for a few hours, wife,” Jaime told her, brushing her messy hair away from her cheek. “And our tour guide isn’t one of the generic ones. He’s actually got a Master’s in History. Name’s Vargo Locke. But he prefers Vic. He’s famous around here for this article he wrote speculating that the Kingslayer and the Maid of Tarth were once visitors in the castle.” 

That was new. Brienne’s field of study focused on literature but it tend to cross over to history too. Though her expertise were the songs and tales beginning from Daenerys Stormborn’s re-conquest of Westeros, she had favourites from other periods. Chief among them was the Tale of the Kingslayer.

A few years ago, archaeologists recovered sections of the lost White Book of the Kingsguard, an unfortunate consequence from The Purging that followed the re-conquest. A few torn pages had been recovered but the only intact one was that of Jaime Lannister, known as the Kingslayer. It was creepy considering that the Jaime Lannister before the re-conquest had murdered Aerys Targaryen, which was mirrored in the scandal that Jaime and Aerys figured in years ago. 

The torn page was so far the only evidence of the Kingslayer’s identity. His remains were never found, nor was there anything else known about him. Because of the Purge, histories from that era only survived by word-of-mouth. The ancient library in Oldtown, the Citadel, had been destroyed, the fire taking much of the knowledge it stored. Historians, archeologists and scientists believed that this set back development in Westeros by no less than a few hundred years. 

Often tied to the tale of the Kingslayer were stories about the Maid of Tarth. Her identity wasn’t known, or if she was even real. But there was a Brienne of Tarth who served as Queensguard to Daenerys Stormborn until she died from old age. Brienne’s family history was murky too.

Jaime grinned at the curiosity in her eyes. “Truly?”

“Yeah. And it’s sound.”

“Huh.” Brienne rested her head on his chest.

“Second thoughts, wife?”

“Of course not. I’m just surprised. I’ve not heard of him.” She was frowning as she turned to him.

Jaime kissed the crease between her pale eyebrows. “Don’t you think the tour is the perfect opportunity to listen to him?”


	2. Two

Vargo Locke or Vic, as he preferred, was a pale, thin man with thick, black hair, laser-sharp, blue-gray eyes and a thick but trimmed black beard. Brienne supposed he could be termed handsome if one was into dangerous men. He was much shorter than them and had to look up when speaking. 

Despite his too-sharp looks and gravelly voice, he was friendly and had good answers to questions. Jaime watched on amused at Brienne’s probing. She was definitely suspicious of the man since the article he wrote should be making rounds in the academic circles. Vic did have a graduate degree in History but he simply enjoyed the subject and had no illusions pursuing the scholarly life. When he wasn’t conducting tours, he owned and ran a bar, called The Old Goat.

“But how did you come to think that the Kingslayer and the Maid were once here?” Brienne really wanted to know.

“It’s well-known around here. Oral history, mind you, Professor, instead of documented,” Vic had taken to calling Brienne professor after they had introduced themselves. She just mentioned she taught at King’s Landing University-Westeros. That impressed Vic more than Jaime being behind LSM Creatives and a Lannister. As he should be. Jaime was Brienne’s biggest fan.  
The ruins of Harrenhal was a thirty-minute drive from the hotel. From afar, it looked huge, yet desolate and tragic, and was worse up close. Built to withstand land assault, it hadn’t factored an aerial attack from dragons when the Targaryens first conquered Westeros. Three of its five towers were razed. Through its long history, it changed hands of leadership, according to Locke, with Brienne nodding in agreement. He told them about the castle’s alleged curse, as none of the lords that held it died natural deaths, and their families died out violently shortly. 

Jaime didn’t believe in curses but he could see why people thought so regarding Harrenhal. It rose like a black, screaming, grotesque monster, as if running from something. If monsters were afraid, then there was something worse. He glanced at Brienne, wondering if she too felt ill at ease. Instead she was looking around the doomed architecture clearly enthralled. 

“This castle changed hands several times during the War of the Five Kings,” Locke was saying as they made their way toward the castle’s entrance. “I believe it became a Lannister fortress at one point, then the Starks, the Boltons. It’s even said that during the Lannister occupation there were a series of mysterious murders here, carried out by an assassin believed to be a Faceless Man.”  
Jaime whistled. He wasn’t big on history and only cared because Brienne did. But he knew about the Faceless Men. “Why do they think it was a Faceless Man?”

Locke shrugged as he reached for the gate. “Honestly, I don’t know. Again, it’s all oral history. They never knew who it was but they all happened in broad daylight. Really gruesome too. There was a torturer named the Tickler. Again,” this, he told Brienne who was frowning, “another legend. Who knows if he’s real. But he would have prisoners eaten alive by rats.” Locke looked a little green. “And that’s when he was in a good mood. He was murdered too. Well, Professor, Mr. Lannister,” he nodded at the castle before them, “Welcome to Harrenhal.”

The gate was new but it still shrieked and strained to open. There were signs all around for visitors that outlined the history of the place. “We can’t really go inside because the structure is still being assessed. It’s so wrecked that we don’t know where to start the repairs, and how. But I can show you the old baths.” This time, Locke smiled. “And the bear pit.”

“The bear pit?” Brienne said, her voice suddenly too loud. Blushing, she continued, “Do you mean to say that people really wrestled with bears during that time? There’s never been factual evidence.”

“I agree,” Locke told her. “But, Professor, you’re familiar with the Kingslayer and the Maid of Tarth. That’s one of the stories about them here. The Maid was thrown into the pit to wrestle with a bear.”

“Horrific and barbaric,” Jaime declared, imagining the Tarth wench being forced to fight for the sick pleasures of men. “But who would do that?”

“War makes animals of men, Mr. Lannister,” Locke said as they went around the castle. Jaime wrinkled his nose. He could still smell smoke but that was impossible. “You forget what you’re fighting for, who you’re fighting for, but always you wonder why. Then one day you run out of answers. That’s when decency stops too. You take what you can get. If you get a kick out of chopping off hands or feet, you do it. If it’s some woman against a bear, you do it. I hope I don’t cause offense,” he quickly added. “But I’m anti-war.”

Brienne had to fight back a smile. “Then I should never introduce you to my father.”

Locke smiled back and continued to walk ahead of them.

Brienne took Jaime’s hand and he nearly jumped. It was cold and clammy. The day was warm, which accounted for Brienne’s pink face but he noticed that the back of her shirt clung like second skin. “Are you alright?” He asked, gesturing at her shirt.

She nodded. “It’s just a little too warm. I had too much coffee.”

“Why don’t you take off your shirt for a bit?” Jaime told her.

She nodded and shrugged off her denim shirt. She was wearing a white tank top underneath. Damp with sweat, it clung to her skin, outlining the soft swells of her tits and her tight, straining nipples. Gods above, Jaime thought, feeling his cock twitch in his shorts. He glanced at Locke, who was still walking ahead. Hurriedly, he pulled off his red plaid shirt and held it out to her. 

“But I’m warm,” Brienne said.

Jaime had to smile. “And you’re also flashing the goods, wife. I don’t mind but I mind about Locke seeing what should be my exclusive privilege.”

“You’re always horny,” Brienne teased him, taking the shirt and slipping it on. Jaime folded her shirt and carried it draped over his arm. It was cool and damp. He was warm but his t-shirt was still dry.

Locke was standing at the edge of a massive, deep hole in the ground when they reached him. Jaime estimated that it was around twenty feet deep, and thirty feet in circumference. The Harrenhal Historical society had put around steel barriers for safety purposes. Jaime rested his elbows on it and looked down while Brienne held back. 

“This is the only solid structure around here,” Locke said. “Not much to keep it so. Visitors get a kick out of coming down there. No bears, I’m afraid,” he joked.

“Can we?” Jaime asked excitedly. 

“I don’t know, Jaime,” Brienne looked down. “It's so far down."

“We built steps,” Locke pointed nearby to a set of concrete stairs with sturdy railings. “We used to allow ladders to be used for a more authentic experience but it’s not exactly safe.”

“Come on, wife, let’s try,” Jaime wheedled her. “Besides, there aren’t any bears.”

Brienne sighed and nodded. “Okay, fine.”

Jaime clambered down first, Brienne following gingerly. He couldn’t understand her behaviour. Brienne wasn’t afraid of heights so why was she acting like she was? He determined she must be still tired from last night. They resumed fucking once they were done with the dinner, requesting for desert to be brought up to their suite. They only got two hours of sleep at most. 

The ground was dried dirt though their sneakers still sunk about an inch upon stepping there. Holding hands, they looked up to see Locke.

“How is it?” He called out.

“Terrifying,” Jaime hollered back. “Good that there’s no bear.”

“I have to make a call. I’ll be back. Please excuse me,” Locke showed them his ringing phone and disappeared.

“She must have been forced by a sword to come down here,” Brienne was murmuring, looking around the bit. 

“You know the story? Why she was forced to fight a bear?” Jaime asked, wrapping an arm around her waist. 

“I heard they made her choose. Rape by the men or getting mauled by a bear,” Brienne shuddered and he kissed her comfortingly. “There’s this story that she and the Kingslayer were prisoners of these outlaws. Outlaws who were either answering to the Boltons or the Lannisters—it wasn’t clear. The details are sketchy but she was separated from the Kingslayer—left behind in Harrenhal. That’s how she came to fight against the bear.”

“If they’re Lannister men, why is the Kingslayer a prisoner?” Jaime wondered out loud.

“Who knows? That’s what’s so frustrating about history. It relies only on what’s documented then you speculate from there. If it’s not written or recorded concretely, it’s just hearsay. What I know is the Kingslayer was taken during the early days of the war. There was going to be prisoner exchange. Again, this is where the details get hazy. I don’t know how the Maid of Tarth came into the picture but they were together. Maybe she was supposed to facilitate the exchange or something and they ran into bad luck.”

“That still doesn’t explain why these outlaws would consider the Kingslayer a prisoner.”

Brienne shrugged. “That I can’t answer.”

“Look over there,” Jaime pointed at the ruins of what appeared to be a door. “It’s over ten feet high. That must be where they kept the bear starved and beaten.”

“You seem to feel more sorry about the bear, husband,” Brienne turned in his arms to whisper in his ear. Her hand slid up and down his chest in a slow, sensuous caress.

“I have a feeling that since the Maid would rather face the bear, she can take good care of herself,” he whispered. Then he kissed her.

Brienne’s full, thick-lipped mouth was always a delight to kiss. He nipped and licked, bit the slick tissue, sucked. Her response made his head spin, his knees weak. With his strength diminishing from her sweet kisses, he dragged her under the stairs. He pinned her against the wall and smirked at her blush.

“Locke will see,” she protested weakly as he pulled her tank to mouth one of her tits.

“Hmm. Isn’t it exciting?” Jaime muttered, kissing the droplets of sweat on her tits, savouring her salty-sweet taste. Brienne groaned and arched against him, pushing her tit deeper in his mouth. Jaime sucked hungrily, loving how warm she was getting. Then he returned to her lips, kissing her loudly and wetly. 

He stepped back to drink in the sight of her. The hot lust in her eyes and the freckles that were vivid, pink splotches all over her skin, her sweet, swollen mouth. He smiled and made to return to her arms. As he did, a vision of a tall, pale-haired woman, her eyes big, beautiful and blue, with hideous claw marks running from her neck to his chest was standing before him. Her pink dress was torn and bloody. He skidded back on his heel, startled. 

In the next instant, it was Brienne staring at him in confusion, shirt hanging off one shoulder, tank top rolled to her middle.   
“Jaime?”

He blinked several times but it was his wife still staring at him. Brienne righted her shirt and went to him. Her hand was still clammy when it touched his cheek and he jumped. “Sorry,” she quickly removed it. “Are you okay? You’re pale. It’s like you saw a ghost.” 

Jaime breathed deeply. His face grave, he said, “I think I just did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaime gets cockblocked by a ghost!


End file.
